


the nature of dreams

by changeapproved



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Gen, human nature au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-27
Updated: 2020-03-02
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:08:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22915258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/changeapproved/pseuds/changeapproved
Summary: The lives of Yaz, Ryan and Graham are upheaved once again when they are charged with keeping their new friend 'Jane Smith' safe from unknowable threats. It is, of course, easier said than done.Set between Spyfall and Fugitive of the Judoon.
Comments: 15
Kudos: 53





	1. Chapter 1

It was hard to go back to everyday living once you’d had all of time and space at your fingertips. Yasmin Kahn let out a weary sigh and began the familiar walk home, taking her usual detour to stop at the local coffee shop on the way. She’d have wandered there either way, but after a 6am shift she absolutely needed caffeine if she wanted to stay awake long enough for dinner tonight. It had been a really long day. Most of them were nowadays. 

As she walked a few people nodded to her in greeting. Some of them were friends of her parents, and it was well known this was PC Kahn’s route home. A few of the locals liked the idea of being on the police’s good side, even if she was just a _probationary_ officer. If there was any bitterness attached to that word in her head, Yaz discarded it.

It had been an unseasonably warm winter, but Yaz turned up the collar of her brown, pleather jacket against the wind as a light drizzle began to fall. Just another miserable end to another miserable day. Her mum had told her off a few times recently for saying things like that, but as Yaz pushed her way through the dingy side streets of Sheffield underneath a grey, overcast sky it was hard to feel any differently.

She turned away from the housing estate then towards the high street. Around her street lamps began to flicker on. She kept her head down and trudged on.

It was a relief when her first destination of the evening came into view. ‘Chapter One’ it was called - a cute little coffee shop that sold a few books on the side. Yaz had passed many times, but had only really visited in the last month. Her pace picked up and she threw her whole body against the door, relishing the sudden rush of warm air and gentle jingle of the bell.

A ray of light in this dreary day, finally.

“Hi, Yaz!”

A smile flickered across her face and she looked to her left. The counter was, as always, laden with platters of homemade cakes covered by clear, plastic bell-shaped lids and stacks of different flavoured teas. Behind it stood a blonde woman with a beaming smile on her face and her hand already up in a wave.

“Hey, Jane,” she said. The bitter smell of coffee beans with an underlying scent of heavy caramel washed over her and she could already feel some of her tension melting away.

She took the final few steps towards the counter and smiled at the cheerful server. It was difficult not to. “How are you today?”

“I’m pretty good. Graham brought me some sandwiches for lunch because he said I couldn’t have cake every day.” The woman shrugged, though under her overlarge jumper it was barely noticeable. “I think he’s wrong, but they were really good.”

Yaz shook her head, a fond smile playing about her lips. “Can I get a latte?”

“Sure,” said Jane. She spun around on her heel so vigorously that if she’d been wearing a coat it would have swished behind her like a cape. The smile on Yaz’s face faded and she looked away.

Just two more months. 

“Did you catch any bad guys today?”

“No,” said Yaz, with a huff. “I wrote some really important parking tickets though.”

Jane glanced back from the machine she was currently fiddling with and offered Yaz a sympathetic look. “You’ll get there,” she said.

“I know,” said Yaz, and she did know. She just wished things would move a bit faster. She wanted to _do_ something. Help people, and as far as she was concerned there was nothing helpful about parking tickets.

The coffee machine hissed and Yaz took the time to look around. A few students (she assumed) milled about on mismatched armchairs under scattered fairy lights and pastel origami shrubbery, some with books in their hand they probably had no intention of buying. It was quiet. For the best, Yaz thought dimly. She wasn't really in the mood for _people_ right now. She rarely was anymore.

Maybe she should see that counsellor like her mum had suggested, but how could she ever speak to a therapist having seen all the things she'd seen? Telling a mental health professional that she'd been whisked away in a magic blue police box by a two-hearted alien through time and space was a sure way to get herself chucked into what her dad always, unfortunately, called the 'funny farm'. There was nothing funny about it as far as she was concerned. 

She just needed...something. Something more.

"You sure you're all right, Yaz?"

Her heart ached, but she plastered on a weak smile and turned back around. The server held a tall glass out to her, handle first and she took it gratefully. She relished the heat even as it stung the tips of her fingers.

"I'm fine. Just tired," she said. "How about you?"

"Everything's good with me," Jane replied. It was the same response she always gave and she always sounded like she meant it. "That'll be uh...an amount of money, please." She looked behind her at the price board and squinted.

"Honestly, you've worked here for weeks now and you still don't know how much things cost?" said Yaz. Then she cursed herself because she'd just sounded exactly like her mum.

Jane turned around with an apologetic smile and shrugged. "Sorry. I've never been good at remembering stuff."

Yaz shook her head and handed over some coins from her pocket. She told Jane to keep the change and then crossed the room to park herself in her favourite corner armchair where she could keep an eye on the whole store. She sighed deeply and settled herself in for the long-haul.

* * *

' _She's on her way. See you tomorrow. Y x_ '

Graham slipped his phone back into the pocket of his cardigan and glanced out of the bay windows. She wouldn't be home for another fifteen minutes, but he couldn't help himself from casting a quick look up and down the dark street outside. It was empty, of course, so he drew the curtains.

The ticking of the clock rang dully through the sitting room and Graham's shoulders drooped. It had been a long day with very little to do, but Ryan would be home soon too at least and he was always hungry after a long shift. _I'll start the dinner_ , he decided.

Earlier he'd settled on pie and chips, so all he had to do was throw it in the oven. When that was done, he withdrew his phone again and set a timer. 

With nothing else to do while he waited, he leaned against the kitchen counter and tried not to think about how this was the kind of thing he and Grace used to do together; a task that was easier when he wasn't alone in the house. Thinking was funny like that though, wasn't it? The second you try not to think about something it becomes all you can ever think about.

Graham shook his head as though that would somehow dispel his thoughts. It didn't, of course, so he went back into the front room and put the telly on. If he was lucky he'd catch the last half of Pointless. 

* * *

It had been a hard shift and one of his shoulders throbbed from picking up a heavy box with a bit more vigour than was strictly necessary, but he'd had lunch with the pretty new girl, Monica, so all in all Ryan considered his day a good one. He'd never have had the confidence to talk to her before, but travelling with the Doctor had made him brave.

He allowed himself a small smile and pushed his key into his front door - to discover that it was already unlocked. He rolled his eyes. _Jane_.

The house was brightly lit and he could already smell chips once he was inside. He dumped his bag next to the door and made his way to the kitchen where he could hear Graham complaining about this month's heating bill to the home's other occupant.

"Hey."

Graham looked up from his position at the oven and smiled at him. "All right, son? Good day at work?"

"Was all right, yeah," said Ryan. "We made pretty good numbers today." He looked over to the kitchen table where their new house guest was perched at the end of a chair with her legs crossed. "Hey, Jane."

"Hey, cuz. Nephew? Step-nephew? Step-second cousin?" She frowned, obviously having confused herself.

"Let's just stick to Ryan, eh?"

"Ryan," Jane agreed. "I will figure it out though!"

"Maybe don't though?"

"I bet Google knows."

He sat down at the table opposite her while Graham started to dish up.

"Google don't know everything," said Graham. They'd had this argument more times than Ryan cared to count, but it still brought a smile to his face at the familiarity. Jane, on the other hand, almost seemed offended by the besmirching of her favourite search engine's honour.

"I bet it knows this though," she insisted. "I'm going to..." She trailed off and looked out the small kitchen window. A small crease appeared between her eyebrows. "I'll look later. Don't want to be rude and play on the internet during dinner."

There was a pause.

"You lost your phone again, didn't you?" asked Graham.

"No!" Jane immediately protested. Then she looked down. "Okay maybe a little bit. Sorry. I didn't mean to." If it didn't show up this would be the third phone Jane had lost since moving in with them. Behind her back, Graham shook his head. "Sorry," Jane said again. She twisted her hands together, something that Ryan had learned she did when she felt guilty about something. "Sometimes I just forget I've put it down. I don't remember having it this morning. I might have left it in my room."

"I'll go look for you, okay? Don't worry about it," said Ryan.

"No it's okay. You only just sat down. I'll-"

"Stay there," said Ryan, maybe a little too harshly because the woman flinched at his tone. He allowed himself to relax. "I mean I need to go up there anyway. Wanna wash my hands before we eat. I'll check for you."

Both Jane and Graham smiled at him then.

"Two minutes," said Graham, gesturing at the microwave with the fish slice in his hand.

Ryan jumped to his feet. He hated his food to be cold.

He took the stairs two at a time and came to a quick halt outside the room Jane had been sleeping in. He hesitated outside, because it felt weird just walking into a woman's bedroom even with her permission. Still, with a fortifying breath he pushed it open and stepped inside.

The room was still incredibly sparse, Ryan noted. Jane had neglected to decorate it, saying that she didn't need to and that she was happy with whatever she was given. The two men had done their part to try and make it more homey for her, but it was hard to know what she liked. In the end they'd settled for a yellow vase of fabric daisies on the window ledge and a generic canvas painting of the Lake District on the wall. Wouldn't have been Ryan's first choices, but Jane seemed reluctant to actually share any of her likes and dislikes with them.

Ryan shook his head and walked over to the far side of the room where he knew Jane's phone would be. It didn't matter how many times the thing fell down the side of her bed, she never thought to check there before leaving the house every morning. It was as endearing as it was frustrating. 

He stopped then, eyes lingering on the pocket watch resting on the bedside table. That was something else Jane was supposed to be keeping with her at all times, but just never quite managed. It gleamed an eerie silver in the light coming from the open door to the hallway and Ryan felt himself being drawn to it without his permission. His hand stretched out and he traced a gentle finger over the circular patterns etched into the metal. It pulled at him somehow. A deep longing for something implacable that ached in his gut. The watch _wanted_ to be opened.

The microwave downstairs beeped loudly and Ryan blinked. He snatched his hand back and shook his head.

"Sorry, Doctor," he said. His voice was low and sad and felt like it echoed around the room. "Not yet."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a little introduction to my attempt at a Human Nature-style story that I'm mostly writing at the moment to distract myself from obsessing over the upcoming series finale! Thank you for reading.


	2. Chapter 2

Bad music from the TV blared through the flat. Yaz pressed her fingers to her temples as though it would somehow stave off the headache she could feel building there. She’d already asked Sonya to lower it down once, and all it had gotten her was a stroppy huff and a ‘just shut the door if it’s bothering you so much’. As though mere wood was enough to stop that cacophony. Yaz didn’t begrudge her sister watching her favourite show, but honestly ‘The Voice’ was not for her. 

She shook her head, like that would somehow shake the noise from her mind, and tried to refocus her attention on the files in front of her. Large photographs lined the kitchen table. There was just _something_ about this scene that didn’t sit well with her and she couldn’t pinpoint what it was. It felt like a crime scene, even though her superiors insisted it wasn’t. As far as they were concerned they wouldn't have investigated at all if the victim's sister hadn't been married to one of their own and had pushed for it.

She pulled one of them closer to her and tapped a finger against it. Maybe-

The TV seemed to get suddenly louder and Yaz flinched. Was that…

Yes, that was an operatic cover of My Heart Will Go On. 

Irritation curled in her chest and she bit down on the inside of her cheek. _Don’t get mad,_ she told herself, knowing she was already past the point of no return on that one. 

Part of her wanted to storm into the living room and snatch the remote control from her sister to turn the damn thing off, but instead she gathered the photos from the table and put them carefully back into their ratty cardboard folder. She wasn’t meeting Ryan and Graham for another couple of hours, but there was nothing stopping her from going to the coffee shop early. 

* * *

As days went, so far Jane couldn’t complain. She’d had a blissfully nightmare free sleep and she’d made it to work before it had started raining. Now she was enjoying a slow morning at ‘Chapter One’; the Sunday crowd was always her favourite. Without the rush to get back to work after their lunch hour, the customers always seemed to be in a better mood. 

She hoisted up the tray of empty mugs and glasses and made her way back to the counter, smiling at people as she went. Most of them ignored her, but a few of the regulars smiled back.

The bell to the door dinged and cold air wafted into the room, but Jane didn’t bother to look up. She’d learned fairly quickly on this job that if she wasn’t paying exact attention to what she was doing, things tended to end up broken. The boss had started taking the cost of the smashed dishware out of her payslips, which was a bit embarrassing, but fair she thought. Graham had been outraged on her behalf, but she’d managed to calm him down. She appreciated him leaping to her defence at least. As far as she could remember, he was the first to ever care enough to do so. 

“Jane?” 

“Hmm?” 

“Your new friend is here,” said Caitlyn. Jane put down the tray of dirty cups on the side of the counter and looked up to see her coworker grinning at her. She always had that look on her face whenever Yohan showed up, though several weeks later she had no idea why. “Why don’t you take your break now?” 

It was a bit early, Jane thought, but she shrugged. “All right. If you’re sure you can manage without me?” 

“By the grace of God I think I’ll be okay,” said Caitlyn. She gestured around, and her long, sparkling nails caught the light. Jane’s eyes were immediately drawn to them. Nice shade of blue; darker than the shade she’d dyed her hair. “The place is virtually empty.” She turned her head. “Hey there, Yohan. The usual?” 

Jane blinked and forced herself to look at the man next to her. He smiled at her before answering. 

“Please,” he said. Caitlyn nodded and then winked at Jane, spinning around to locate the jasmine tea. 

They’d been working together for a few weeks now and Jane still wasn’t quite sure what to make of Caitlyn, which admittedly wasn’t an uncommon feeling for her. Despite the occasional confusion over her motivations though, and the sarcasm she so liberally peppered her conversations with, Jane was sure her heart was in the right place. At the very least she never tried to make Jane feel bad about the...many many mistakes she made throughout the day, unlike David who rolled his eyes at her almost constantly. 

“So what’s good today?” asked Yohan, and it took a moment for Jane to realise he was speaking to her. 

“Oh uh…” She glanced over the counter. “The boss’ husband made brownies this morning and they’re really good. Not that I’d know. I definitely didn’t eat one when nobody was looking.” 

Yohan’s dark eyes crinkled with amusement and he looked over to Caitlin. “I’ll have a brownie too, thanks.” 

“Sure thing,” she said. She withdrew a tray from the stack beside the coffee maker and started loading it with things he definitely hadn’t asked for. “Jane’s break just started,” she then said. Bizarrely. 

“Oh,” said Yohan, scratching his neck. He looked at her. “That’s...Would you like to have lunch with me then?” 

“I’m meeting my friends for lunch,” she said, shoving her pockets into the front pocket of her apron. His smile dimmed. “I could just have a coffee though?” 

“You could _not_ just have a coffee,” Caitlyn called over. “You’ll be jittery the rest of your shift if you do. I’ll make you some tea.” 

Heat rushed to Jane’s cheeks. _Nothing like being told what to do by someone half your age._ “All right,” she said. If Yohan noticed her embarrassment, he thankfully chose not to comment on it. 

There were a few moments of awkward silence while Caitlyn finished collating their order. Yohan insisted on paying for Jane’s drink, even though she assured him she got her drinks for free because she worked there. She didn’t quite understand why he’d done it, but she appreciated it all the same. 

* * *

The bell jingled as Yaz shouldered her way through the door, police file clutched to her chest. She breathed in and willed herself to relax. Despite being a public place, it was much quieter here than it had been at home. Or at the very least the dull chatter and occasional clink of cutlery were much easier to tune out than the incessant warbling coming from Sonya’s choice of entertainment. 

She walked over to the counter and tried not to look too put-out when it wasn’t Jane there, but one of her coworkers. 

“Y’all’right, Yaz?” asked the girl with a grin. “What can I get you? The usual?” 

It was strange to have frequented somewhere often enough to have a ‘usual’. She wasn’t sure if she liked it yet. 

“Yeah,” she said. Caitlyn nodded and began work on her latte. “I’ll have a piece of the banana bread too.” Caitlyn put her thumbs up. 

While the woman worked, Yaz scanned the shop for Jane. She had to be there somewhere; Graham had messaged both she and Ryan when she’d left for work that morning. 

“She’s sat by the window with Mr Tall, Dark and Handsome,” said Caitlyn, while she faffed around looking for something on one of the shelves. Unease prickled at the back of Yaz’s neck and she suppressed a frown. Then her eyes found their target.

Jane was sat opposite an attractive Asian man in what looked like a slightly ill-fitting tweed suit. He leant towards Jane, just ever so slightly, and talked with what seemed to be a great deal of enthusiasm. His hands were wrapped around the glass mug in front of him, but Yaz could see them twitching like he’d have preferred for them to have been in motion.

_Okay_ , she thought, _this is fine._ So what if Jane had made a new friend? 

The man said something and Jane’s responding smile lit up her entire face. 

_Oh no._

“Who’s that she’s talking to?” asked Yaz, aiming for and clearly falling shy of the mark on nonchalance. 

Caitlyn waited for a moment before answering, focusing instead on the finishing touches on Yaz’s drink. She moved back over to the till and put the latte in front of her. 

“Professor Yohan Kwon,” she said. “History teacher at Sheffield Uni. I’ve seen him a couple of times before, but since Jane started working here he’s suddenly become a regular.” Caitlyn smiled at the same time as Yaz’s heart sank. “Can’t possibly imagine why.” 

“She’s never mentioned him,” said Yaz. With her free hand reached for her drink, relishing the sting of heat against her fingers. 

“Not surprised,” said Caitlyn. She didn’t quite roll her eyes, but Yaz could hear it in her voice all the same. “I don’t think she even realises he’s hitting on her. It would be sweet if it wasn’t so annoying to watch her completely miss the point over and over again.” 

“Right,” said Yaz. “She can be a bit...oblivious sometimes.” 

“Hey, don’t look so worried,” said Caitlyn. She reached over for a small, round tray and put Yaz’s drink on it, followed by the banana bread she’d asked for. “That’ll be three quid, please.” Yaz handed over a five pound note. “He’s a nice guy. And all I ever hear them talk about is history, though I can’t quite figure out if Jane has any idea what she’s talking about or not.” 

“What do you mean?” 

Caitlyn shrugged and handed Yaz her change. Yaz dropped a couple of coins in the tip jar. 

“Most of the time she just smiles at him in that ‘lights are on but nobody’s home’ sort of way she does.” Words couldn’t describe how much it upset Yaz to hear her friend being described that way, even though it accurately illustrated Jane’s situation to a level that even Caitlyn didn’t understand. “Then sometimes she’ll actually reply with something so smart that I don’t even understand it and poor Yohan will look like he’s about to cry from joy. I don’t get it at all.” 

Yaz forced an uncomfortable laugh and glanced back over at Jane, who looked entirely too relaxed for Yaz’s liking. “Yeah, she’s like that sometimes.” 

She thanked Caitlyn and crossed the coffee shop to her regular spot. The headache behind her eyes grew steadily worse and she pulled out her phone and opened up Whatsapp. 

[10:57] Yaz: _We might have a problem._

[10:58] Graham: _Another one?_

[10:58] Ryan: _Where r u?_

[10:58] Yaz: _At the coffee shop. No rush. We can talk when you get here._

With the faint relief that came from knowing this was no longer her sole burden, Yaz sighed and returned her mobile to her bag. She wasn’t even sure why she was so bothered about it all. Did it really matter if the- if _Jane_ found herself a boyfriend? At the very least it gave her cover story a little more creedence, and if it made Jane’s life on Earth more enjoyable then why not? Didn’t she deserve a bit of happiness, even if it was temporary? 

Except that what made Jane happy might not necessarily make her alter-ego happy. 

The folder of crime scene photographs sat forgotten on the table while Yaz sat back in the armchair and thought through her options. 

* * *

The day had turned into rather a gloomy one by the time Graham and Ryan arrived. Yaz was on her third drink of the day and the lunchtime rush of customers had flooded the cafe, no longer quite the quiet sanctuary she had stormed out of her house in search of earlier that morning. Heat from too many bodies pressed down on her.

Her eyes tracked the boys as they greeted a rather harried looking Jane and then made their way to the table she’d secured for them. She tried to smile at them in greeting, but based on their rather lacklustre response she hadn’t done a very good job. 

“You’ve got me all worried now, Yaz,” said Graham. He pulled off his woolen gloves and crammed them into his coat pockets. His nose and ears shone red with the cold. “You can’t just text us saying there’s something wrong and then be all vague about it!” 

Yaz flinched. “Sorry about that. I didn’t want to write it down.” 

Ryan discarded his coat and then sat on the opposite chair. “He’s been pacing the living room for the last hour and a half.” His frustration, as far as Yaz could tell, at least seemed tinged with amusement. “You should have heard some of the rubbish coming out of his mouth when he was trying to guess what the problem was.” 

“It wasn’t rubbish,” Graham protested. Finally having taken off his outerwear, he sat down next to Ryan with an audible groan and rubbed his hands together for warmth. “Nothing I said was anywhere near as ridiculous as what’s actually happening right now.” 

“Sure,” said Ryan, with a shake of his head and a significant look in Yaz’s direction. “The-” He paused and corrected himself, lowering his voice as he did so. “Jane spotting a pepper shaker that kickstarted her brain into remembering the Daleks was dead likely.” 

For the first time that day, Yaz felt herself smiling without having to force it. “Really, Graham?” 

“Well I don’t bloody know, do I?” he said. “We’re getting to a point in our lives where the more ridiculous something sounds, the more likely it is to happen.” 

It was hard to argue with that logic. In the last year their lives had basically become an episode of Quantum Leap crossed with Star Trek. Still…

“Pepper shakers though?” said Ryan. “They don’t even have salt and pepper shakers here.” Graham opened his mouth, presumably to defend himself, but Ryan cut him off before he could. “You wanna just put us out of our misery then, Yaz? If you don’t tell us soon, Graham’s gonna crack.” He shot the older man a look. “More than he already has.” 

“Ta very much,” said Graham, affronted. “I’ll remember this next time you ask me for something.” 

Ryan puffed out some air through closed lips, completely unphased by the empty threat, and Yaz felt some of the tension in her shoulders ease. Not that she couldn’t have handled this herself, but it was always nice to be reminded that she wasn’t alone. They were a team. A _fam_. 

“All right,” Yaz began, “so I might be overreacting here, but I think Jane might have a boyfriend.” 

There was a pregnant pause, as both men’s mouths formed a comical ‘o’ shape. 

Then Ryan said, “Why?” 

“Because when I got here she was sat with some bloke and because Caitlyn said he’s been coming to see her every other day for the past few weeks,” said Yaz. “They were very...friendly.” 

“You’d think she’d have mentioned it to us,” said Graham, sounding faintly offended. 

“No,” said Ryan, “I mean why does she have a boyfriend at all? Like...how did that happen?” 

“I’ve seen you flirt with enough random girls on our travels to know you already know how it works,” said Yaz. It had been a fairly recent development, but he seemed to be well on his way to becoming something of a ladies man.

“Not the same,” said Ryan, and despite the seriousness of the situation, he still managed a smug little grin. “Those girls weren’t... _Jane_.” 

Yaz blinked, incredulous. “You don’t think Jane is attractive?” 

Ryan looked over at the woman in question, eyebrows turned down in thought. Perhaps feeling three sets of eyes on her, Jane looked up and waved at them with a bemused smile on her face. 

“She’s just...the Doctor though, isn’t she?” 

“ _Ryan!”_

“Shit. Sorry.” 

They looked around to make sure nobody was listening. Nobody seemed to be, and it was loud enough that they were unlikely to have been overheard, but Yaz still felt on edge. It had taken such a long time for any of them to get used to calling her by that name, but even now Yaz still slipped up. In her own thoughts though; never in a random public place.

“I just mean,” said Ryan, quick to brush over his mistake, “she’s just...her. I’ve just never really seen her as-” 

“- that’s enough,” Graham interrupted. “I don’t think in any form she’d like us talking about her like this.” 

“Right,” said Ryan. He looked down at his hands. “Sorry. I didn’t mean-” 

“It’s all right, son,” said Graham. “Maybe let’s just remember that she’s our friend?” 

_Or a poor facsimile of their friend_ , Yaz thought bitterly. Then she felt guilty, because in any other circumstance she was sure she’d have been very fond of Jane. It wasn’t her fault that all Yaz could see when she looked at her was the person she used to be. It wasn’t fair to her, but then, did it even really matter? It wasn’t as though ‘Jane’ even really existed. 

Except that Jane did exist and she felt things just as deeply as the rest of them.

Making sure to keep her voice low, Yaz said, “Anyway, my problem is more to do with like...how happy you-know-who is going to be about it when she wakes up.” She hesitated at the dawning realisation she could see on Ryan and Graham’s faces. “What if she...does something that she’s going to regret later?” 

“Oh,” said Graham. His shoulders drooped and he leaned back in his chair. 

“Oh,” Ryan repeated. “I’ve never seen her uh…” He paused, visibly searching for the right words. “I’ve never seen her be _into_ anyone like that before. I kinda didn’t think she was interested in that sort of thing.” 

And therein stemmed a huge part of Yaz’s objection. In the year she’d known her she had never once seen the Doctor respond positively to any kind of romantic interest directed at her. If she even noticed it at all (which more often than not, she didn’t, or at the very least pretended not to) she’d shut it down with a hard no from which they’d all swiftly move on past and pretend hadn’t happened. What if, after all this, she came back and hated the decisions she’d made when she wasn’t in full control of her faculties? 

“If that’s true maybe it’ll translate through to Jane somehow,” said Yaz hopefully. “I know she’s different but- Graham?” She stopped. “I don’t like that look on your face.” 

“Sorry,” said Graham, and he really did sound apologetic, “but you’re working on some false information there.” He glanced around as subtly as he could and lowered his voice. “She used to be married.” 

Yaz felt her mouth drop open. 

“No she didn’t,” Ryan protested immediately. “That would have well come up before now. She’d have mentioned it!”

“She has mentioned it,” said Graham. “To me. Only once, mind you, but she was very clear about it. They were together for centuries.” 

An unwanted whisper of jealousy curled around Yaz’s mind. Why had she trusted Graham enough to tell him about her history but not Yaz? 

“That’s mad,” said Ryan, still sounding sceptical. “Is it wrong that I’m a bit offended that she never told me?” 

Graham shrugged. “I asked her about it. It wasn’t long after we started travelling with her.” _Because he had been missing Grace_ , Yaz realised, and the jealousy eased. “She didn’t tell me much about it. Not even her name.”

Ryan shook his head. “Imagine being in a relationship with the same person for hundreds of years.” 

“I got the impression she was one hell of a woman,” said Graham with a sad smile. 

“Do you know what happened to her?” 

“Not really. At a guess though I’d say…” He trailed off. 

“She died,” said Yaz quietly. Graham inclined his head in agreement.

A tense silence followed and Yaz was struck by how little they really know about the person they chased around the universe. It was a thought she’d been having more frequently in recent weeks, though she tried not to dwell on it too much. Usually any attempts at prying information out of the Doctor were curbed with a total nonsequitur and a sudden and inexplicable crash landing into a new wacky adventure. She didn’t like being brushed aside, but Yaz understood. Or at the very least she tried to understand. Who was she to demand information that the Doctor wasn’t willing to part with? 

She resisted the urge to look over at the subject of her thoughts because they’d already spent enough time today watching her like weird stalkers. She doubted Jane would even notice, but the other staff members might, and the last thing they needed was to draw attention to themselves. 

“Sorry,” said Graham. “I realise that isn’t what you wanted to hear.” 

  
“Better we know,” said Yaz. “I’m just worried that like this she can’t really give informed consent to anything that might happen there, if you know what I mean?” 

“Right,” said Ryan, now looking almost as troubled as Yaz felt. “Bit of a weird one, that.” 

“The problem is how can we actually stop her?” said Graham. “She’s a grown woman. How well’s that gonna go down? ‘Oh sorry we’re going to have to break up because my uncle and teenage friends told me I had to’?” 

“I know,” said Yaz. 

She’d already thought through all of this and was still drawing a blank. What viable reason could they even give to convince Jane to stop talking to the nice man who visited the coffee shop? Based on what Caitlyn had told her they weren’t even actually dating. Just chatting. 

“We’ll just have to keep an eye on it for now,” said Graham, with a shrug of his shoulders. “Might not even come to anything and then we’ll have wasted all of this time worrying over nothing.” 

“Fingers crossed,” said Yaz, not really believing it. When were things ever that easy?

“I’ll go and order us some food and drinks, shall I? You want anything, Yaz?” 

“I’m okay, thanks,” she replied, gesturing to the cold, half empty latte beside her folder. 

Graham nodded and left to join the queue, leaving Ryan and Yaz in a companionable silence. Ryan leaned forwards against his fist, elbow resting against the table, eyebrows contracted in the middle like he was thinking really hard about something. Yaz didn’t blame him. This was just one more thing to add to the list of things they needed to worry about. She felt constantly on edge. It was getting exhausting.

In an attempt to distract herself, Yaz finally turned her attention back to the police file she’d been carrying around with her and started to spread the photographs across the slightly too small table. She might as well try to accomplish at least something while she was here. The twinkling fairy lights hanging above her cast a reflective glare over them. 

As far as she could see it was just an empty flat from different angles. A flat like any other really, decor a bit old fashioned and the wallpaper peeling around the edges of the kitchen area. A bit messy. Massive flat screen telly. A few nicknacks scattered around different surfaces, and based on the scarves hanging by the door the bloke was definitely a Sheffield Wednesday supporter, but that was about all Yaz could really glean. 

"Really, Yaz? Crime scene photos in the cafe? You're gonna put people off their cake," said Graham. She almost jumped in surprise at the sudden interruption. 

He had a point...and honestly she wasn't even supposed to have taken these outside the station. If someone found out about it she’d be in a lot of trouble. Something about them just really bothered her and she knew she wouldn’t be able to rest until she’d figured out what it was. 

"Suicide scene photos actually," she said.

"Oh right, yeah, that's much better." Graham rolled his eyes and retook his seat next to Ryan. He then placed a mason jar on the table with a wooden spoon sticking out of it with a number on. "Poor sods."

Yaz ignored him and continued to stare at the photos in front of her. 

It had been the armchair in the middle of the room where he’d been found by his sister. Nothing weird about it. Nothing on the table next to him. No suicide note, which Yaz thought was weird but had been assured by people more experienced than her was more common than not. There was just... _something_. 

She was so engrossed she didn't even hear the bustling approach to their table.

"Hi there!" No 'gang', no 'team', no awkward 'fam'. Yaz's heart sunk. "Everything okay?"

Jane very carefully put a tray down on the small table next to them and then began to dole out food and drinks to Ryan and Graham, including a piece of carrot cake that Graham definitely wouldn’t have ordered. She had a vague recollection of an impassioned speech he’d given once about how carrot cake was indicative of today's societal problems. Out of pity, Yaz assumed, he didn’t bother to correct the mistake.

"All right, yeah," said Ryan. "How are things with you? Seems busy in here."

"Good," said the Doctor ( _Jane, Yaz corrected herself bitterly_ ). "Haven't broken a single dish today."

"Low bar you've set yourself there, love," said Graham with a wry smile.

"Ah well, we all have to start somewhere," said Jane. She cast a glance over the table, eyes falling on Yaz's photos. "What's all this then?"

"Crime scene photos," said Yaz. She pushed them a bit closer to Jane. "Well, suicide scene photos. Everyone's convinced that's what they are anyway."

"But not you?" asked Jane. She looked at the photos with a combination of mild interest and trepidation.

"There's something about them that doesn't sit right with me," said Yaz. "He overdosed on sleeping pills. It's weird though...I can't put my finger on it."

"Well yeah," said Jane. She straightened up and withdrew a little notepad from her apron pocket. "Doesn't make sense. Do you need anything else?"

Ryan opened his mouth, probably to ask for a fork to eat his tiny bowl of mac and cheese with, but Yaz beat him to it.

"Hang on." She ignored Graham's long-suffering sigh. "What do you mean it doesn't make sense?" 

Jane seemed surprised. "Oh. Um..." She leaned down and prodded one of the photographs, leaving an unfortunate and obvious greasy fingerprint in the corner. "He overdosed on sleeping pills?" Yaz nodded. "Well where's the water? People usually can't swallow that many tablets without something to wash it down with." Yaz frowned at her. No. That couldn't be right. There was no way somebody wouldn't have picked up on that. "There's not even an empty glass by the sink." 

Jane seemed a bit uncomfortable under the scrutiny, and Yaz felt another pang in her chest. This would usually be the part were the Doctor would launch into one of her interminable rambles that simultaneously informed, solved the problem at hand _and_ marvelled at her own intelligence. Jane had no such confidence.

“Never mind,” said Jane. “Just ignore me.” 

"You're a genius," said Yaz. Maybe it was nothing, but it was weird. Who overdosed on sleeping pills and then took the time to do the dishes and put them all away? 

Jane grinned bashfully and tucked some blonde hair behind her ear. It was a nervous habit she seemed to have picked up as this 'human' version of herself. Most of the time the Doctor seemed to run around being blinded by strands of hair sticking to her face and barely noticed. "I wish."

"No," said Yaz, insistent. "Nobody else noticed that."

Jane's cheeks turned pink. "Maybe I should be a detective then. I could fight crime. We could fight crime together! Like Holmes and Watson, but a girl version."

"I'd watch that show," said Graham, eyeing the panini that had been put in front of him. Looked a little burnt around the outside, but Yaz doubted he’d care about that.

"Might annoy some blokes on the internet though if they made Sherlock Holmes a woman," said Ryan. "You know what people are like. No straight, white, male protagonist and suddenly it's political correctness gone mad."

"All the more reason to do it really," said Yaz, only half paying attention to the conversation. 

"I think I'd make a good Watson," said Jane, seeming pleased with herself.

"Not Sherlock?" asked Graham.

Jane's nose wrinkled as she scrunched her face up. "Nah. Yaz is the expert. Besides, I like the idea of being a doctor. Don't you think it would suit me?" 

Thankfully, she didn’t seem to notice the way all three of them stiffened at that. They were saved from having to respond to that when a loud, " _Jane_!" sounded from behind the till. Jane jumped and waved over to the harassed looking man calling her. The owner, Yaz was fairly sure. 

"Sorry," she said, apologetically. "Can’t stay to chat. I’ll talk to you later, yeah?"

Before they could even reply, she'd already bounded off towards the kitchen. Yaz released a breath she didn't even realise she was holding and her shoulders slumped.

* * *

Darkness had long since fallen when Graham slipped out the back door and into the cold night air. The grass was still damp from the afternoon’s rain, but he paid it no mind and crossed the unkempt garden in his slippers towards the shed. He’d have to call a gardener soon, he thought. Get everything ready for when spring hit. Grace had always taken care of it before and it hadn’t occurred to him until now that it was something he’d have to start maintaining himself. 

The padlock on the shed door was icy cold and slippery between his fingers, but even in the dim light from the waxing moon he pushed the key in and unlocked it without difficulty. He’d done it enough times by now. 

_Just leave the TARDIS alone,_ the Doctor had said. _I’ll put her in emergency power mode so she doesn’t attract attention._

Easier said than done. Graham felt a comforting stir of recognition as the old blue box came into view in the musty old shack.

He shut the door behind him and walked inside. He fancied the TARDIS walls warmed beneath his touch, but he knew it hadn’t. Ever since the Doctor had...ceased to be, the thing had become almost cold and devoid of life. When Graham had first started travelling with the Doctor he’d always protested the idea that the TARDIS was alive. Now, without the whirring energy that usually filled the machine, he had never been more sure it was. The TARDIS _missed_ the Doctor. He could feel it deep in his weary old bones. 

He understood. They all missed the Doctor. 

Inside the TARDIS the lights were a dull grey. Barely enough to see by, but Graham still crossed the floor until he was stood in front of the console. He ran a finger across an empty surface and frowned when it came up with a thin layer of dust. He’d have to get in here and give it a good clean tomorrow. The Doctor wouldn’t care, he was sure, about a little dirt. Still, it would make him feel better to make sure her home was in tiptop shape when she returned. 

Graham swallowed against a rising lump in his throat and gave a self-deprecating smile to the empty room. He’d always been sentimental.

A sharp _click_ behind him made him jump and he turned his head just in time to see Ryan walk into the TARDIS behind him. He’d have assumed that Ryan had followed him out here, if not for the look of surprise on his face. Based on his loose fitting t-shirt and cotton shorts, he’d been in bed before he decided to come out for a visit. 

“Graham!” Ryan stopped and shifted his weight from one bare foot to another. “Uh...what are you doing here?” 

Graham tucked his hands into the pockets of his flannel dressing gown. “Same thing as you, I think.” 

“Right.” 

The two men (because that was what Ryan was now, Graham thought; no longer the sullen teenager he was when Graham had first met him, Ryan had grown up into a fine young man) stood there in an awkward silence, until Graham let out a long, low breath. 

“Jane okay?” 

Ryan shrugged, and moved closer to the TARDIS console. Now that he was closer, Graham could see that he was shivering from the cold outside. “Think so. I didn’t like...look in to check on her or anything though ‘cause that would be weird. Didn’t seem to be having any of those nightmares though so...” 

He trailed off, looking nothing short of morose. Graham understood. Without her Doctor filling the whole room with life and energy, the TARDIS had never felt bigger and emptier. And Graham had never felt smaller.

“Come here, son.” 

“Uh...no thanks,” said Ryan, pulling a face. 

“Yep,” said Graham. “Come and give your old granddad a hug.” 

Ryan rolled his eyes, but Graham could see he was fighting back a smile. “Fine.” 

It was quick, and Ryan’s whole body remained stiff. Graham patted him on the back and felt him relax. “I miss her too, you know,” he said.

“I know,” said Ryan. He pulled away, and though he’d never mention it Graham could see tears sparkling in his eyes. Maybe it was his imagination, but Graham thought he could feel the TARDIS ache in sympathy along with them.

“We’ll get her back. I promise.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Answers will start to trickle in in the next chapter! Thanks for reading :-)
> 
> Also, that episode sure was something, wasn't it.


End file.
